


My Reflection Blinked

by Samsara



Category: South Park
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - High School, Bi-Gender Character(s), Character Study, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Has Issues, Falling In Love, Family Drama, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gender Issues, Grief/Mourning, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Introspection, LGBTQ Themes, Light Angst, M/M, Maturity Sucks, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Slice of Life, Slurs, Step-parents
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-09
Updated: 2014-11-22
Packaged: 2018-02-24 15:58:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2587343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samsara/pseuds/Samsara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Upon the start of high school, everything really began to change. People came out. Got money. Went through self-discovery. Everyone went through changes that began to reflect on who they were going to become once childhood was totally over. But when Clyde realizes he's the only one he knows not to have experienced any personal growth, he begins to wonder just what his life is going to end up being. Sure, he's cool, popular and well-liked now, but that doesn't mean he's going to stay that way once college and the real world start. Back when everything was just life in South Park and the daily nonsense that went along with that, things were fine. He felt like he'd go somewhere one day. But with high school coming to a close, what's waiting for him once it's all over? Is it back to living in South Park with nothing to show for it? Or can he open his eyes to notice that he has changed, and he just can't see it.</p><p>{Clyde/Craig heavy, other ships referenced and implied. Warning for Slurs in later chapters.}</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I saw my reflection blink.

Very few of the kids talked to one another after they had transitioned to the integrated high school on the edge of town. At first there was the local high school but as it became more crowded, it was decided that all middle school graduates headed into high school would come to the tri-city Park High School where South, Middle and North Park would be sending their students from that point on.  
  
Park High School. Consisting of the wealthy, pompous upper class of North Park. The classy but under rated blue collar kids of Middle Park. And the altogether weird and unfathomably country folks of South Park. A breeding ground for conflict and fights and the constant barrage of oddities from the little mountain town it was closest to, but yet…  
  
Those little occurrences never seemed to span outside the town. And so for the first time in many years, the child hailing from South Park could attend school without some sort of nonsense breaking through their classroom windows.  
  
In a way. Normalcy had come to their lives. No random intrusions of FBI agents entering classrooms to apprehend one of those four delinquents (who had now gone their separate ways to their own little cliques). No aliens abducting other students. Or school supplies becoming sentient and consuming the town. Since the school itself was outside of South Park -- South Park’s influence over the school was seemingly nonexistent.  
  
All they worried themselves with now, was who was popular. Who was smart. Who deserved to be picked on. Who wasn’t even worth mentioning. All was as it should be.

  
People grow up. Things stop being as strange as they are at first, and people move on. That was why kids like Stan Marsh no longer associated with his former best friends as often. From time to time he could be found with Kyle Broflovski and his long-time ex-girlfriend Wendy, but it was seldom, and most of it done outside of school. Troublemakers like Eric Cartman had calmed down, accepted himself and found himself hand in hand with a mister Butters Stotch after realizing his constant beratement of the boy to be the misunderstood interpretation of a crush. And the local poor kid, Kenny McCormick? No longer the poor kid. No longer the resident pervert. But instead a strong-performing athlete with a gift for computer programming.  
  
They had gone their own ways. And seemingly, the only boy from that original classroom that seemed to have stayed in place with a young boy with a colostomy stoma.  
  
All around him. People had grown up. Matured. Evolved and so on and so forth. And he was still standing there, draining his stoma in the locker room before practice and watching as his teammates stepped past him and out through to the field where they were beginning warmup exercises. With the process complete he discards the remains and tightens his sneakers as he adjusts himself before heading out with the crowd.  
  
He’s a star on the field. Always had been. It never really mattered the position he had played before but he was the ticket to winning their entire season. He’d take them to State. He did the previous year. So why would that change?  
  
This was Clyde Donovan.  
  
He didn’t change.  
  
It was like watching a television series where all your favorite characters grow up and move on with their lives. They would make new friends. Former recurring characters stopped showing up aside for guest appearances. New characters were introduced but they were never as charming as the old ones. Characters would get into relationships. Get married. Have children. It was Full House. Except not as full of 1980s humor and bad hair. Just bad hair and jokes that had been written to death a dozen times too many that the writers insisted were still funny and earning them viewers, but in fact were alienating more and more people.  
  
He didn’t enjoy talking about it. Teachers from time to time notice the popular young man seeming distant and untalkative, many chocking it up to undiagnosed depression or anxiety, but they did little more than suggest Clyde see the school’s counselor and talk out his issues. Yet, more often than not, when asked, Clyde would just smile, lips pulled back just enough to reveal his teeth and say: “Sorry, just thinking about my mom again.”  
  
It was as good an excuse if any. Sure, even though his father had remarried several years prior, it was still a fresh wound. Any boy who loses a parent is likely to carry that burden with them for a long time. Especially someone like him, who to this day felt responsible for it (After all, he did leave the seat up.) and he didn’t quite feel ready to forgive himself. And so for Clyde Donovan, though he smiled and flirted and carried off girls (and the occasional boy behind closed doors) into the sunset on dates and off to parties and to his dad’s shoe store, he still felt as if he hadn’t changed. And it would be quite some time until he did.  
  
Little things would change. Nothing life affirming, but big enough to be considered a change. Clyde learned to drive. A new mom stepped into the picture when he was fourteen. His sister went to college. But it still wasn’t him. And as each day passed by, some familiar, commonplace things became more and more welcome.  
  
His neighbor was still his best friend, even though on the social spectrum that was school, neither of them were considered compatible in the hierarchy. Clyde was the top of the ladder, and his neighbor, a Mister Craig Tucker with hair that smelled of cigarettes, was close to the bottom, nearly on the floor.  
  
Popularity status through the roof didn’t stop him from beeping the horn of his car as he pulled around the back of the school to where the other teenager was out back smoking, offering him a ride. He frequently declined but on the days where he got into the car, it was unlikely they’d arrive home early.  
  
With windows rolled down, despite the far-too-cool mountain air circulating for the car, Clyde never had to put the radio on. Not when he was with Craig. One of them would usually carry the conversation, only to switch off now and then, usually mindless dribble about the past days, usually for venting about problems at school or complaining about others.  
  
With his arm hanging out the window and cigarette pressed to his lips, Craig sank back into the seat as Clyde opted to take the long route back to town, passing through farm communities and vacant countryside in order for the two of them to catch up.  
  
“I still think I should’ve dropped out.” he mused, staring out the window as a finger idly picks at the skin around his lip. “I could be out doing something by now if I did.”  
  
“And where would I be in this picture?” Clyde replied with, glancing over only briefly to make note of his friends nonchalance. “Would I be doing something with you?”  
  
Craig had changed too. “Nah, you’re too good a student. You’d still be here. Probably gonna get into some school for football and only want you around to take their school to new heights and not gonna give a shit about what you actually want to study.”  
  
“Who said I was going to college?” It was a stupid hypothetical. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. It was known throughout the school that Clyde had decided on a whim to apply to a school the end of the previous year, only to be accepted come the start of senior year. He’d made such a stink over his acceptance that it was such a blatant lie for him to even suggest he wasn’t going to school.  
  
“You’re a fuckin’ liar, Donovan.” Craig laughed -- although for Craig it was hardly a real sounding laugh, but it was a sound of amusement. -- bringing the cigarette to his lips to suck the smoke into his lungs. His birthday was only a few weeks earlier, and having come to the age of eighteen he could finally buy his own tobacco instead of relying on his other friends. “We all know that you’re going to school, stop pretending.”  
  
The car fell momentarily silent as Clyde was left to think about the gravity of the situation. Here he was, a relatively good student in school, quite popular, and a skilled athlete, and next to him was still one of Park county’s most misbehaved students. He still frequently wound up in the counselors office, or in detention as well as suspended more often than not. He was outspoken and cold towards staff and students alike, and most seemed to come from his lack of giving a shit about who he pissed off. Craig never did anything extracurricular other than occasionally go to his part-time job (which Clyde still had no idea what it was). He never did aim to join any sports teams, despite having a knack for track and field given his build. Craig just didn’t show interest in anything.  
  
“Since you are finishing, what do you think you’re going to go for?”  
  
“Film, maybe.” A surprisingly quick response came from Craig as he did little to indicate a change in emotion regarding the question. “I’ve been making little movies since we were kids, remember? I had that show back in elementary school.”  
  
“Of dogs wearing hats.”

“It was tasteful and artistic wide angle recordings of dogs wearing hats, thank you.”  
  
It was a rare instance between these boys where they had the chance to just talk. High school had given both of them different paths in life. For Craig, a misfit. Not so much a delinquent but rather a misunderstood rebellious sort who had a bad reputation permanently affixed to him. And Clyde, a partial-pity case since his mothers death, and a be-all-end-all sex god after hitting puberty that sky-rocketed him to the tops of the popularity chart. As far as their youth had been concerned, they had always been on the same page, but time still treated them both as different people.  
  
With Clyde as a two time winner of Homecoming King, and nominated for this coming year, and one year on Prom Court, he was one of those boys who had to keep up appearances during the day. Had he strayed into the art rooms, or theater or journalism wings of the school, he’d be risking his popularity, dubbing himself as a geek and unworthy of the time of most others on the same tier of popularity. So it was simply after hours where he and Craig -- the standoffish, blunt former douchebag of South Park Elementary -- really got to see one another. Clyde’d make a point of driving them both home from school -- telling the more popular sorts it was only because they were neighbors -- and instead of leaving it at that, they’d drive to the next county. Get something to eat, hang around and shoot the shit until it started to get dark, and then make their way home. That is unless Clyde had practice, then Craig usually had to catch the shortbus, consisting of several of the other primed losers of the school.  
  
Both of them had been exposed to changes, but in the eyes of Clyde Donovan, Craig had been the only one to change. He had grown taller, thinner, more attractive, smarter and wiser. He was the type of guy that if it hadn’t been for his attitude towards most others, he’d probably be quite popular as well. He’d never been witness to it, but for a few years, Craig had been prone to harassment from the other students, but it had never been too serious. Slurs and nasty rumors, but boys were never as terrible as girls when it came to gossip. Craig had either dealt with the crap on his own to get it stop, or it still was going on and he’d just stopped caring. Either seemed plausible to Clyde.  
  
But this was Clyde. The only bullying he’d ever experienced was in grade school and a little in middle school after he tried to take over the world in that stupid little game (he still didn’t know whether or not that goop he found was actually turning people into zombies, or if all of them just had really intense imaginations. It was South Park, anything could happen). But it never really got to him. He could brush off most things without a single thought.

But this was Clyde.  
And all around him, everyone he knew had changed.  
They were all growing up, and yet there he was. A grown boy with a promising future in sports and whatever career he chose, he’d have it made. Whatever life he wanted, he could very easily pursue.  
If only he didn’t still feel like he was ten years old.  
  
Everyone changes.  
If that’s the case, why hadn’t he?

 


	2. Running Red Lights For Shits and Giggles

His father got remarried when Clyde was twelve. He’d been dating this woman about a year or so, not looking for what most people would call romance, but just a companion. With Betsy gone, and in such a tragic (although somewhat comedic) way, the house was quiet while Clyde and his sister were at school, and being a single parent of two children was harder than he had anticipated. Even with funds set aside in case of this sort of situation, it was still taxing. Sure, his children seem to be quite fine coping on their own, doing what they could to make life easier, but it wasn’t enough. Not that the table being set every night, and regularly cleaning the bathroom and living room wasn’t helping. It just wasn’t going to cut it when it came to long term things. Financial things. Major household things.  
  
Her name was Donna Mavis. A bit uptight for Clyde and Mary’s liking, but like Roger had wanted, she got the job done. She was one of those step parents that both children never really felt any love from. She cared about them, of course, but she didn’t love them like Betsy had loved them. She would still remind them to take a jacket, or not to stay out late, but those little reminders were likely due to Roger’s insistence. Donna Mavis had her own child but he was already in college by the time she married into the Donovan family. She wouldn’t take their name, thinking she sounded too clumpy when asked her name. Her son, Bryce or some lame name like that could only be expressed as a fuckboy.  
  
Whenever he came to the Donovan household, Clyde instantly had to protect his big sister. Little brothers aren’t meant to take on that sort of responsibility, but in this case he did. Mary, who had been homely and relatively plain looking as a child had blossomed into a relatively young woman, and a constant victim of harassment from older men. She always looked older than she really was, and even when Clyde was twelve years of age, and Mary a bit past seventeen, she was a constant target of Bryce’s bad behavior. He’d say things to her about how he’d like to get her alone. How now that he was here, there was nothing she could do to turn him down. Disgusting suggestions that immediately pitted Clyde and Mary against him. Whenever he was home, Clyde would sleep in his sisters room. This was his sister and he wouldn’t let some creep mess with her. Even if he technically was family.

 

For a couple weeks at a time, Clyde would roll out a sleeping back and a bunch of pillows and came out right behind Mary’s door, making sure that she was never alone more than she needed to be. Sure, she could protect herself, but he was her brother, and he didn’t intend to let more of his family get screwed over because of him. Several times the both of them had talked to their father about Bryce’s unwanted advances, and of course, Roger listened. But more often than not Donna would always chime in with some defensive nonsense of “Oh, but he’s such a good boy! You must be imagining it!”

 

It was fortunate for both of them when Bryce finished school and made a point of not living with the Donovans, staying somewhere in Arizona with his girlfriend. The kids both suspected he was a drug dealer or involved in some sort of crime ring down there given his atrocious personality, but  it didn’t really matter. Their household was safe again. Even though they had spent several years with Clyde sleeping in his sisters room every time he came home. They still remained wary.  
  
  
Upon coming home from school after dropping Craig off next door, he offered the most nonchalant of waves to Donna as she sat in the living room, watching The View or some crap that simply did not resonate with Clyde. He started to head straight toward his room, but was stopped by her calling out to him, asking him to speak with his father in the kitchen. This usually meant that his father wanted to discuss college or something, but it was still too early in the year for Clyde to be thinking about it. This was his last chance to enjoy high school before the real world consumed him.  
  
Slumping into the kitchen, his father was at the counter, pouring coffee into mugs (The Tweaks had given their family a relatively regular supply of their own blend since Clyde’s mother died, knowing that Roger was quite fond of it, as a means of sharing their condolences), offering one to Clyde. Instant response was to set the cup on the table, retreat into the fridge and snatch a bottle of Coffeemate creamer in order to make the stuff taste like something other than coffee.

 

“Listen, dad. I don’t want to discuss college right now. Today was a long day, and I’d rather just go to my room, finish my school work and sleep --” He was instantly on the defensive, trying to avoid any chance he had at discussing things that might stress him out.  
  
“This isn’t about your schooling Clyde, it’s about your sister.”  
  
The tone in Rogers voice was a little more formal than Clyde had grown accustomed to. It was almost as if something really bad had happened and he was preparing to let him down as gently as possible. Maybe she’d fallen into her boyfriends toilet and been killed by the suction. That’d be ironic. (But he truly hoped this hadn’t been the case.)  
  
His father sat down, gesturing to the seat in front of him, waiting for Clyde to sit down across from with. With sigh belated and poise growing relaxed as he sat himself in the chair he gestured to his father with an exasperated but casual “Alright, shoot.”  
  
He had expected his father to be quick in speaking, but it was as if he had to choose his words all over again. Perhaps he had expected Clyde to dodge this discussion and hadn’t fully prepared himself to have this conversation at his first attmpt at approaching his son. With cup to his lips, he took a sip of his coffee (opposing Clyde’s, it was entirely black).  
  
“Son, I know that, since your sister left for school you’ve become. . .closer to Craig next door. I know you’ve been pretty lonely being the only child in the house, and having Craig right there must be pretty easy for you when you need someone else your age around.” He paused, seeming to need to choose the next words more carefully. “But your sister is coming home in December, following her graduation and you might have to cut down the time you spend with Craig in her favor. I know you and he go off and,” He raised his hands to, oh god, oh no -- he was doing it. Air quotes. He was making air quotes. “Do your thing. But you might not want to do your thing in the house while she’s here.”  
  
Clyde had been mid sip of his coffee (80% Mexican Chocolate Coffeemate, 20% Coffee) and nearly spewed it back into his cup as he started to choke on it. Instantly, his mind told him that his father had the wrong idea about what he and Craig were doing after school and whenever he came over. It was just friends hanging out.  
  
“Whoa, whoa. Dad. I don’t know what you’re thinking but I don’t have that kind of relationship with Craig!” words came out much more flustered than he had intended and he’d leaned forward against the table, shaking it slightly. “Like, holy shit, dad, you don’t get it. I can’t hang out with him in school, my reputation is on the line.” Hands rose to different positions in the air, Clydes left hanging close to his head. “See, Dad. In terms of popularity. I’m here. I’m the top of the food chain. Like, people glorify me. They want to be me. I’m the popular guy who doesn’t bully kids for being poor or ugly or retarded. And Craig’s down here!” his right hand wasn’t ridiculously low but it was past the middle mark between Clyde’s head and the table. “He’s not popular. He’s not a fuckin’ nerd --” Roger interrupted to remind Clyde of his language, allowing the boy to adjust his terminology. “Freakin’ nerd. But he’s pretty low. His rep from middle school’s still with him, and he can’t outrun it. Dad, you know how popularity works. Popular kids can’t let it show they’re friends with less popular kids or you lose your status. And Craig’s just not high enough for me to be able to be his friend in the open! We hang out after school, at the county line so no one sees us. I spend time with him at home since I can’t at school. Seriously, whatever you’re thinking, that’s not it.”  
  
Roger didn’t retaliate much in regards to Clyde’s sudden tangent, but he did know where Clyde was coming from. He’d been relatively popular (not Clyde-tier) in school, but those were days from long ago. A nod was given to Clyde as he stood up, carrying his coffee away from the table. “If that’s how you want to convince me, alright Clyde. Just keep it out of the house for a while.”  
  


Clyde’s only means of retaliation was to call after him as he left the kitchen: “I HAVE A GIRLFRIEND.”  
  
And did he have a girlfriend indeed. Rebecca Saunders from North Park. five-eight, auburn hair, curvy, fully bodied and positively gorgeous. She was the kind of girl that boys fought over. No matter the time of year, he skin was always a warm, shimmery gold as if she’d been tanning somewhere out in Hawaii her entire life. She was one of those girls who didn’t wear a lot of makeup, but what she did wear made everything pop out. Eyes like creamy mugs of hot cocoa during a blizzard, sweet to look at, and even sweeter to know they were looking like you. And the gloss she wore on his lips gave them just the slightest pout that everyone, boys and girls alike fawned over wanting them against their cheek.

 

Clyde was the luckiest boy in the school. She was all his and it was perfect. It paid to have grown up normal, and Rebecca Saunders was proof of it.  
  
Sitting in his homeroom class the next morning, he had to be as stupid as anyone could possibly be when it came to being in a relationship. Homecoming was in a few weeks and he still wasn’t sure whether or not he and Rebecca were going. He’d love to take her. It was senior year and they were sure to win Homecoming King and Queen, and he’d just love to have her join him.  
  
“You know you’re dating her already, right?” There was a slump next to him as his attention lifted from the stupid little note he was writing with the words ‘Hey Becca, Homecoming, right? Let’s kick some ass.’ to face a blonde haired teen next to him with a compact mirror open, casually reapplying mascara.  
  
“You Kendra today?” Clyde asked as unshaved legs in a miniskirt kicked their way on top of the desk as the makeup continued to be reapplied.

 

“You can still use Kenny, Clyde. She pronouns today.” she replied, as someone a few seats over sneered at the formerly derelict student as she slowly turned her head towards the jeer, casually saying aloud. “I don’t need your approval.” before returning to her makeup, and replying to Clyde. “Seriously, man. If you’re dating Becca already she’s bound to be going with you to Homecoming already. Just ask her face to face if you want confirmation. I had no idea if me and Annie were going, but I just asked and y’know what?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Dumped my ass. So, I guess me and Annie ain’t going to Homecoming now.” she laughed, closing her compact and pulling her legs off her desk, leaning over the bar on the side to lean towards Clyde as the two of them sat in the back of the class. “Thinkin’ about asking Craig though.”  
  
That was the thing about Kenny. In fourth grade, he had concluded he was a boy and a girl. And other than Eric Cartman, most of the students of South Park were really relaxed about it. Kenny wanted to be a girl and a boy? That was cool with them. He liked girly things, that didn’t make him less of a guy. And as a girl, she liked boy things. Didn’t make her less of a girl. And then when the other students started exploring this sort of deal, it just became widely accepted (in South Park at least) that not everyone was as they appeared. Kenny in a way had become a trend setter. He had figured out he was a boy and a girl long before everyone else, and on top of that, he was the first to suggest that he really didn’t care who he hooked up. Sure, he preferred to get his hands on some titties, but everyone’s allowed to have their preferences.  
  
Kenny was that one kid that no one expected to be as popular as he was. He’d stopped being the poor kid sometime during middle school when his family earned and inheritance that secured them a more comfortable life. It didn’t involve his parents getting jobs or anything, but it had become a little easier for Kenny and his siblings. There was food on the table. They could afford a few more luxuries. Could get their car and house fixed up. Not enough for frivolous things, but it was enough to ensure that their younger two kids (Kevin having dropped out of school a while back) could at least get some college under their belt when they were finished.  
  
Clyde risked nothing being Kenny’s friend. He (and she) was outspoken enough on the right issues to make him (and her) well liked among the student body. For the most part.

 

“Why do you want to ask Craig? And why are you telling me?” Clyde replied, leaning back in his chair, crumpling up the note he’d written. “You know he’s just going to tell you no and that he has better things to do.”  
  
“I hear he puts out when he goes on dates.” Kenny said, almost forlornly. “I could use a good fuck.” Her shoulders shrugged as he sat back in her chair, twirling a finger around some of the loose blonde that hung by her ears. “Figured I’d tell you ‘cause everyone knows Craig wants your d.”

 

“He doesn’t want my dick, Kenny. We’ve just been friends forever. You know that, you’ve been his friend since grade school too. We just hang out after school ‘cause I can’t risk that sorta crap here.”  
  
“Trust me, Clyde. He wants your dick. And if you’re not gonna pounce on his, someone else will and you’re gonna be left in the dust.”  
  
“You know what, Ken. Fuck this. First my dad and now you, does the universe just want me to fuck him or what?” A hand raised to his eyes, rubbing at the corners. “Would I be appeasing the universe if I just fucked him and got it over with?”  
  
“Probably not. The universe still decides to keep killing me and it’s never happy. There’s no pleasing some people. The universe included.”

 

On the way home, Clyde became the victim of a sensation most people experience. That of awkward silence and tension. Of course, it’s not Craig’s fault for the tension. Nah, he’ll blame Kenny for this. She was the one to make Clyde think about the idea that Craig wanted to bang him, and even though he’d made an all-too-vocal, heterosexuality-affirming display of asking Rebecca and her sweet, luscious lips to Homecoming before the school day ended, he still had that nagging in his head.  
  
Did Craig want his dick?  
Was Craig interested in him?  
Nah. Nah. He couldn’t be. Craig wasn’t interested in anyone.  
  
“So Kenny told me you want to fuck me.” Words could’ve been chosen a lot more carefully, but knowing that Craig appreciated blunt honesty, it was probably the best approach to the question. Having been looking out the window and smoking (as always) Craig slowly turned to view his neighbor with an eyebrow raised -- a pierced one. Likely done in the past couple weeks.

 

“Kenny told you that I want to fuck you.” A blunt statement instead of a question. Clyde nearly expected Craig to mutter something along the lines of ‘That son of a bitch, we had a promise.’ But instead came a far more Craig-appropriate response. “Well that’s a load of shit. Why would I want to fuck a lardass like you? Besides, Kenny probably wants to fuck you and is using me as a cover. You know how he is.”  
  
“She. But you know how she is. She’s kind of. Really. Well, slutty. And she said you always put out.” Was it right for him to be calling Kenny a slut? It wasn’t really a bad thing that she enjoyed a good fuck every couple days. It was high school. Everyone enjoyed a good fuck. Except for those abstinent kids who still wore purity rings in senior year. “Nah, calling her a slut ain’t the right word. She’s open.”

 

“Be as correct and respectful as you want, Kenny probably just wants to fuck you and is using me as a cover.”

 

“So why does she want to ask you to Homecoming?” Clyde’s foot pressed on to the brake, a noise of frustration coming from his mouth as he noted that the driver in front of him had opted to go fifteen under the speed limit.  
  
Cigarette to his lips, Craig sucked in a breath and shrugged before letting it out. “To make you jealous? I don’t fucking know. This is Kenny we’re talking about. She’s been tricking everyone since we were eight. ‘Sides. If she really wants to get laid, I’m the wrong person to ask to Homecoming. I wouldn’t go if you fuckin’ paid me.”

 

“That’s what I said.”  
  


“So why are you even going? We could ditch that stupid dance and get trashed in the woods with Henrietta, Mike and Pete. They’re not going either. Or I don’t think they’re going for long.”

 

“I’m nominated for Homecoming Court, Craig. I kinda gotta go. I’m a shoe-in for King.”

  
“King of the Faggots,” replied Craig as for the second time in two days, Clyde got to hear him laugh one of those genuine laughs instead of a breathless huff. For a second he turned to look at his best friend, noting how he was actually smiling.  
  
Only for the loud beep of a car as he accidently drove through a red light brought him back to reality.  
  
Even if Craig did want to get in bed with him, it didn’t seem like he was going to put what they already had at risk. Things were fine just as they were.  


	3. Menstrudel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahaha wow the writing in this chapter sucks.  
> Don't let me write while half asleep.

When Craig was thirteen years of age, he had found out he was adopted. After thinking that they just weren’t going to be able to get pregnant, his parents contacted several of those third-world adoption agencies where a wealthier American family adopted a child from a run down country. Their country of choice? Peru. They figured the child they chose would still have a light enough complexion that he could pass off as one of their own. But as their child grew older and as their family portraits revealed how very different Craig appeared from his parents and (miraculously) conceived younger sister, his parents had to come clean.  
  
Upon hearing the news, Craig’s only response was “Oh, well. That explains a lot.” To which his parents replied with. “About how you don’t look like us, right?” While many parents would have expected a yes, and received a yes as an answer, Craig’s response was “Nah, it explains this.”  
  
As Craig proceeded to shoot sparks from his eyes, burning a hole in the wall.  
  
Despite his youthful displeasure with the unexpected trip he took to Peru after the loss of his hundred dollars (which his grandmother lovingly gave him another after discovering he’d had it ‘stolen’ for lack of a better word) Craig had taken to actually learning about Peru, as well as starting to study Spanish as a means of maybe one day returning and actually being able to ask about his roots. Around fifteen, Craig spent a month or so traveling the country, even going as far as finding his birth parents. They were a young couple, only in their late twenties, having had Craig when they were children themselves (younger than he was then) and being unable to care for him. Since then, they had had two children of their own, around nine and eleven who were Craig’s biological brother and sister. He was offered a chance to stay back in Peru, but Colorado had become home to him, and he couldn’t just leave.  
  
Instead he opted to write them, and had been doing so ever since.  
  
While in Peru, Craig had started to study the mythos behind why he had been on that stone tablet years earlier, even having gone as far as finding the same ruins he had seen years earlier. In some strange turn of events -- ones he opted not to tell Clyde about, even to this day -- he spent several days in the ruins, only to come out tanned and what would appear to be control over his divine gift. When he was asked, all Craig would say is “Yeah, I guess I’m god to these people.” But never said anything more.

 

Craig didn’t show off with his powers. He was relatively modest about them, and very few people got to see him working with them. He did little extraordinary acts with them. Mostly he was prone to using them to lift things when his hands were full, or idly trying to pass time.  
  
In the life of Clyde Donovan, Craig’s powers were the weirdest thing he put up with anymore. Other than the occasional speaking in tongues that remained residual from his occult day, Craig was the weirdest part of his life. And he was just fine with that.  
  
  


  
Homecoming was the next day, and though Clyde had secured his date with Rebecca Saunders, Craig had seemed to be evidently dateless for the festivities. When Clyde asked his best friend about it, he only received a slight shrug and the phrase “I guess I don’t really care enough.”  
  
While the two of them sat in the corner booth of the Taco Bell they went to every other Friday, Clyde couldn’t help but notice the seemingly distracted look in his friend’s appearance. His eyes kept darting toward the window, as if he were looking for someone, waiting for them to come inside the cheap restaurant and start something with him. Clyde, thinking he knew best, prodded him about Homecoming, and that was how Craig said he didn’t care.  
  
Taking a bite of the gordita in his hands, Clyde spoke with mouth full, munching away happily, “I don’t see why though. It’s our last year -- mmph,” He swallowed, setting his food down. It sure wasn’t his mom’s, but he’d take it. “I mean, why not just suck it up and ask someone you’ve always wanted to take to a dance and just risk it all. It’s not like you can fuck up two years in a row now!”  
  
Pearly azure eyes darted back to Clyde as his chin rested in his hand whilst elbow rested upon the shoulder. One shoulder shrugged before he removed his post and leaned back in the booth, stretching his arms up over his head, seeming to be avoiding looking at Clyde as he spoke.  
  
“They, kinda got a date already. It’s not happening. Besides, Homecoming’s for conformist dickheads -- offense intended. You know you’re a dickhead.” A laugh echoed from Clyde as he snatched a cinnamon twist from Craig’s side of the table.  
  
“Try it anyways, who knows she might think you’re hot shit and ditch her date for you!”

 

The corners of Craig’s lips twitched into a fleeting smirk before it simply vanished into nothing. The smirk then evolved into a dry laugh, choking back the knot of disappointment.  
  
“Trust me, Clyde -- finish your fucking gordita -- I don’t mean enough to them. They’re not going to ditch their date for someone like me.” He slid to the edge of the booth, yanking his hat from the seat to pull back on to his head. “I’m going to the car, hurry up.”  
  
With a few more bites of his cheap “Mexican” food, Clyde was on his feet, following after Craig, frowning somewhat to himself. The poor guy. One of the most attractive kids in school with girls always seeming to be interested in him, and the one chick he did seem to have a thing for was already going to their last Homecoming dance. . .with someone else. What a bitch. Couldn’t she see how great Craig was? It was really a shame that so few students were willing to just get close to Craig. Sure, the boy was cold and relatively expressionless unless you managed to get him alone, but Crag was a great guy. Anyone could see that. As far as Clyde was concerned, the chick who turned him down was worth of being shunned by the entire school. How cold can you get?  
  


 

  
Craig had always been a bit more tan than the other white kids of South Park. No one ever really seemed to mind, most people had just assumed he was Italian or something (even with a last name like Tucker). Whenever people asked him if he was of some sort of Mediterranean descent his response was “I’m fucking German.” And that was that.  
  
Despite his parents looking entirely different from him, Craig was prone to wanting to be seen as the adopted child. He enjoyed standing out from them. Where they were all pale complexions with light hair and bright eyes (the only thing he had that he could ever even pretend made him related to them) he was olive-toned, dark hair, lankier build, naturally much thinner than the rest of the Tucker household. He had opted to try other forms of differentiating himself. He tried piercings -- only ever finding the ones he wore as single studs right beneath his lip, and one in his eyebrow to suit him -- and opted for tattoos, although he only ever got one, a symbol for his zodiac at the nape of his neck. He wanted to appear just as out enough to reveal to passersby that although these people were family, they were in fact different. It was something about him. He liked seeming different from the rest of the people in this town. But in the normal way.  
  
In the normal way, kids stood out from their parents by dressing differently. Getting interested in hobbies the others might not be as invested in. Choosing different music and interests. That’s how normal people stood out from the crowd. Not like those four dick fucks who stood out by summoning Satan or becoming super heroes or other weird shit that was only really possible in fiction, but somehow came to fruition in this stupid ass redneck town.

 

Craig Tucker stood out. But in the right way.

  
  


Homecoming came around and Craig was still dateless. According to Clyde as he craned his neck to look at his friend, tossing a hacky-sack in the air, whilst his sister straightened his tie, this was an utter travesty. “You’re missing out on so many chances to get laid, man.” He said, laughing a bit.

 

“Stop moving, shithead.” Mary snorted as she grabbed him by the chin to keep his head and neck from moving, her glasses sliding down to the bridge of her nose.

 

“I’m missing out on chances to get laid when I’m guaranteed the chance to get laid at Pete’s party.” The gaze upon Craig’s face towards Clyde spoke only of sincerity regarding his own evening, and annoyance at Clyde’s assumption. Mary finished with Clyde’s tie and buttoned his jacket up for him, having to tailor it early that day since he’d lost a few pounds since he last wore it.

 

“I can’t believe you hang out with those goth kids as much as you do. Aren’t you better than them?” Clyde asked as Mary finished with his coat and shoved him in the arm, scolding him for making fun of Craig’s friends. “They’re all such tools.”

 

“And you’re not?” Craig asked, inquisitive pierced eyebrow raising so it was hidden under his hat. “Besides, Stan’s going and I’m always guaranteed head from him at least.”

 

“Yeah, but you could have chicks giving you head tonight --”

 

“If I want a chick to give me head, I’ll ask Henrietta or Milly.” Craig instantly retorted, a smirk playing on his lips as he threw the hacky-sack in Clyde’s direction. “Or you.”  
  
Clyde’s instant reaction was to throw the hacky-sack back at his friend.  
As far as he was concerned, Craig was missing out and he would regret it when he woke up the next morning, with a dry dick and regrets.  
  
Homecoming went over without a hitch. Part one. Clyde picked up Rebecca and she looked stunning and they went to the dance and had an awesome time. Part two. Clyde and Rebecca both won Homecoming King and Queen and everyone was jealous. Part three. Clyde and Rebecca had a busy night fucking in every possible spot where they could be alone for more than five minutes. Part four. Clyde takes Rebecca home and they fuck until dawn. Part five. Craig gets laid by someone other than Stan Marsh. Part six. World Peace is obtained.  
  
That is in Clyde’s perfect world, that’s how Homecoming ought to have played out. Of course, he did pick up Rebecca and she was positively stunning. A peach satin dress, down to the floor with a chiffon drape and sweetheart neckline. More than just flattering on her, but astounding as well. Her hair was pulled into a loose up-do, with rhinestone clips adorning it so it looked as if she were wearing a crown of lights. Part one of the ideal Homecoming was almost on par. Almost.  
  
Every hour or so, Rebecca had to run off to the bathroom, and Clyde was pretty sure he got why. Period. She was totally on the rag and there went his chances of really getting some later that night. Maybe he could still convince her to unzip his pants in the car before he took her home. But it was a damn shame. His father and Donna -- and even Mary -- had opted to go out of town for the night so he and his date could “have some alone time” according to Roger, but alas. Best laid plans of mice and men often involve Clyde not getting laid at all.  
  
Homecoming was not as fun as it had been in previous years. Clyde mainly hung around the walls unless he saw some more of the guys from his team gathering together, and with him was Kenny -- she pronouns again as she wore a too-frilly-for-words kind of dress that reminded Clyde more of a ballerina than a Homecoming dress -- Kyle who had been ditched by Wendy at Homecoming in favor of some young activists banquet across town, and Token who had lost Nichole (eight years and still going strong!) for the fourth time that night. The four of them had come to a very specific conclusion.  
  
Homecoming sucked. If you weren’t busy grinding on your girl or spiking the punch for the eighth time -- Homecoming sucked. And here was Clyde, Mister-Homecoming-King nominee, stuck being a wallflower most of the night while his girl was busy in the bathroom.  
  
“Kenny, do girls really take this long when they’re on their period? I never remember her taking this long.” He lamented, rubbing at his face in frustration.

 

“I’m a girl, but I still have male hardware, Clyde. How should I know? I’ve never had my period.” She made a point not to reference the time she got sick and had blood coming from his rear-end and let Eric Cartman talk him into believing he was on his period. Kyle, fortunately for her, kept his mouth shut about it as well.  
  
“I dunno, Clyde. Sometimes girls have it bad and take a while. Sometimes they only take a minute. Maybe she keeps checking because she’s due to get it tonight and doesn’t want it on her dress?” Kyle interjected, sipping a glass of water, knowing better than to go near that overly spiked punch on the buffet table.

 

“Kyle, you gotta stop listening to everything your mom tells you about chicks.” said Token as he and Kyle quickly deviated off into a discussion as to how Kyle’s mother was not the one ultimately responsible for informing him about the workings of the girls menstrual cycle. Thus, Clyde and Kenny were left able to talk about other things, namely why Kenny was busy trying to get Clyde to put his arm around her.  
  
“Did your date fall through?” Clyde asked when he found his fingers resting upon Kenny’s hipbone as she slowly started to guide him toward the dancefloor. A shrug on her part as she twirled a piece of her hair (a wig tonight, wanting to give the impression of being more girl than she really was).  
  
“I didn’t ask anyone.” She said as a particularly slow song came on, forcing Clyde to hold her at her hips while the two of them motionlessly slow danced for the time being. “I was kiiiind of hoping you might show up alone, or get ditched --”  
  


Clyde may not have been the brightest boy, but he could piece things like this together. His eyes narrowed, and cheeks flushed. Fortunate for him, the lighting was a dull, rosy hue that concealed the embarrassment that overcame him. Eyes refused to meet Kenny’s for a time being as she leaned towards him, smile coy and eyes glowing in the warm light. “. . .You wanted to ask me.” He announced, receiving a nod from her. “Is that why Rebecca keeps going to the bathroom?”

 

Her shoulders jerk upwards in a shrug, bare with the blonde hair of her wig bouncing over them. “Not intentionally. I may have seen why she keeps going and kept quiet about it. But I didn’t lure her there if that’s what you’re asking.” Clyde’s arms fell away from her, stepping back as she looked around, almost uneasy, offering him a slight smile. “She paid me to keep quiet Clyde. You’re too much of a friend to me for me to keep totally quiet, but you --”

 

Before Kenny was allowed to speak a microphone squeaked and an announcer came on, rallying students together since it was time to announce the runners up for Homecoming court. Clyde began to look around, hazel eyes searching the crowd for Rebecca, hoping that she might be coming towards him and they could stand in wait for their crowns. They were a shoe-in.

 

Part two involved Clyde listening to every nominee for Homecoming court but himself obtaining runners up titles. All kids he didn’t know about or care about. They weren’t him. Some jackass named Davey won King. Some asshole from Middle Park. And it wasn’t him.  
  
Queen was next. And though Clyde was glad several girls he knew were runners up, he found himself holding his breath as the announcer held the card for queen. Though he would have loved for Rebecca to get the spot, he was scorned because he wouldn’t be her king. He couldn’t be her king even if he --

 

She stepped on to the stage as her name was called, her heels carried between her two fingers as another guy -- someone much older, not even from the school (probably not even in high school) held her around the waist. She was drunk, likely having been drinking that punch all night with little regard for just how trashed she was. Her crown of lights had fallen loose and her hair was around her shoulders instead as she turned to lock lips with that older guy who had helped her on stage.  
  
Clyde was too enraged to hear her thanking her new boyfriend, Jamie as he barged from the hall, finding Kenny waiting for him outside. She had removed the wig as well as her dress, having put on jeans and a t-shirt, causing her -- now him once again -- to stand out.

“She. . .paid me not to tell you.” He said quietly, eyes not focusing on Clyde’s.

Clyde would not be Rebecca’s king. Not then, not ever. He didn’t even question why. Or how. Or what even was her plan. But all he knew was that he was heart broken. He had spent such a long time dating her, and she never seemed to show any lack of interest in him, whether it was lack of interest in the bedroom or him or whatever. Clyde’s hands had gripped around Kenny’s shoulders shoving him against the wall. The smaller, and somewhat bonier teenager just let himself be kicked around -- even if Clyde killed him, Clyde would instantly forget and Kenny would simply wake up in his bed again in the morning.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Clyde found himself screaming, hazel eyes misty as he fought the much needed urge to cry from the shock of it all. “We’re friends Kenny! Friends tell each other things!”

 

“I told you! She paid me to keep quiet. I think, I think she paid the entire school or something not to mention it to you.” Kenny allowed himself to look up at Clyde, trying not to look too hurt or too angry with his friend as he regaled the truth to him. “She told me she’d been planning on this for months. She was bored of you or something, but she’d heard from your exes that you don’t take dumping well because you’ll just cry. So, she . . .wanted to do it somewhere public so you wouldn’t make a scene, I guess.”

 

She knew Clyde well.  
As it turned out, she’d been slipping off every hour to make out with that new boyfriend of hers (who she would likely dump in a few weeks time as well). Anything to keep away from Clyde.  
  
And suddenly thinks were making sense. Why her parents were acting so weird whenever he came to see her (she’d told her parents he was stalking her). Why she wasn’t being sweet to him during school. Why she never wanted to go out with him anymore.

 

Clyde Donovan was an idiot. And that’s precisely what his phone said as he sent the text to Craig as he hopped in his car on his trek home from the school. A message was shot to Kenny, apologizing for being angry with him -- sure he was mad Kenny was lying, but he didn’t dump him. Rebecca did.

 

As Clyde pulled into his driveway, a second car was there, and his door was unlocked, revealing Craig sitting in his living room -- the same chair he had been in when Clyde left. The same hacky-sack in his hands. The only difference it was clear he had left since his clothes had changed and --

 

“Are you wearing eyeliner?” he asked, rubbing his eyes which had since shown signs of tear damage as Clyde had spent the entire drive back sobbing.

 

“So she dumped you, huh?” Craig said, standing up and approaching his friend as he pushed him towards the stairs, insisting he start climbing. “Come on, tubby. Find your blackest shirt and your blackest everything -- you’re coming with me. We’re gonna fix this shit. Don’t worry. I got your eyeliner right here.”  
  
Turning his head over his shoulder as Craig pushed him up the stairs, he stammered, another trickle of tears falling from his eyes. “The hell’re we going?”  
  
And a rare display of humor flashed on to Craig’s lips as he continued to push his boulder of a friend up the stairs, a smirk semi-permanently placed as part of his expression.

  
“We’re going to a goth party.”


End file.
